Fireflies

I think I've seen a firefly one time in my life. We were on vacation and staying in a hotel, on the east coast. It's a very vague memory, but I remember sitting in a swimming pool, and not believing my eyes. Really? A firefly?? I always heard about the romance of chasing fireflies on summer nights, but having grown up on the west coast, the adventure of our summer evenings resides in campfires and shooting stars and the rare thunderstorm. So seeing that firefly there, dancing in it's own shimmering light, really caught my attention. I sat there wondering how high I'd have to jump to be able to catch one. Maybe I'd put it in a mason jar, just like they say you should. But what is the fun in keeping it locked up? Isn't it more fun to chase it around and around with your sisters, laughing and running and hoping that maybe one time when you opened your grasping hands, you would jump back in surprise? You caught it without realizing it, admired it for that one moment, and suddenly it flittered back into the sky. Just like dreams. They float around just above your head, dancing and shimmering in their playful light; trying to catch it takes gumption and laughter, and when you do finally surprise yourself at achieving one, you blink, it's gone, and you're onto the next dream, the next firefly, the next adventure. And when you excitedly tell your mother about it the next morning, you say, "I caught that dream mom! It took me hours and hours, and I was exhausted by the end, but I finally caught it, admired it, reveled in it, and let it go. Now someone else can catch it too!" And your mom smiles like moms do, nods her head and says, "Well done baby. Well done."